


Dystopia

by thanewoods



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Dystopian Zootopia, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 23:07:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12851463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanewoods/pseuds/thanewoods
Summary: Destiny has had to be stronger than Nick,  and yet, who would listen to his cries, to his preaches, to his prayers? Nobody! The people had branded him as a common enemy. Yet, He is but a speck of dust, having little to no importance to the city of lights and diversity.His birth and his death, will it be his only tale?Explore Zootopia in a different shade of light, along with con-artist Nick Wilde.On going





	1. Humble Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Imported from Wattpad because Wattpad is depressing for fanfiction writers. I'll be editing chapters frequently because I'm an asshole.

Nick pushed his way through the revolving door. People loitering under the roof of the station drove out of his way, pulling aside their kids from his grasp. Security rushed through the halls and stared him down sharply, brandishing their firearms and tasers, they planted themselves beside him. Drops of sweat glazed off the guard's nose as they scanned through his body, running their fingers across hard to reach areas. They discovered nothing. Nick lowers his guard, with a simple gesture, he gave them a faint smile, placing his arms behind his back as he walked past the reception.

He queued by the TVM and bought tickets. Line 7, he recalls from the top of his head. Patrol frequently swept past, tailing him for few paces before returning to their patrol lines. The guards were well armed, often lugging people into individual rooms. Nick knew of the potential dangers, even though that they were only enforcing their task to intercept possible terrorists. He was not a fool to let the guards have their way with him.

The crowd thinned out at the platform; rush-hour was over. Nick sat on a bench where security was bivouacking, waiting for the maglev. Traveling agencies skulked around in the background, trying to promote travel plans to the remaining tourists. He Let his mind wander towards what he desired, laying his head flat on the top rail of the bench. He was eager to return to the city, declining business in Union Central had made it difficult for Nick to live by bread. He studied the mapping of Zootopia carefully, running his paws across the map, gently pronouncing the names of each district, picking a better locale for his next scheme.

He twiddled his thumbs, placing them onto his laps as he looked around the station. The maglev arrived shortly, yanking the brakes on the rails, blowing gusts of wind towards the platform. Impressed by the design and speed of the maglev, he gawked the train for a moment before entering. The few of the remaining tourists flickered pictures of the train, sharing Nick's enthusiasm.

Nick wandered off into the ocean of corridors, allowing his gaze to drift towards the transit's interiors. The maglev was decorated alluringly, dashed with soft rosewood carpets and mesmerizing textures. Soaring beams of light cleaved the aisle in half, revealing specks of dust, dancing regally under the shade of light. He strolled for a while before placing himself in a seat by an empty aisle. The ambiance was dead silent, but the air, bitter. He tucked in his arms, trying to thaw out the cold that had dug deep into his bones. His snout twitched and flared as he tried to force a sneeze but failed. Covering his nose and jaws, he muttered to himself: "damned train."

The maglev had passed Union Central and was now on route to ZIC. Broadcasting from the train's tubes, Weather forecasters had announced that weather would be beautiful. Light rain encompassed night, refracting moonlight onto the carriage glass, creating a vibrant blend of white and blue. Nick leaned his head and hands towards the glass built windows, witnessing bodies of droplets glazing off into the abyss of charcoal. The ocean of pine forests swayed with the vigorous gale, blowing humid gusts of air onto the framework. The trees thin out. The maglev had gone into a tunnel of rock and sand. In the grand distance, shrouded in mist and fog, stood Zootopia.

Nick leaned further onto the glass to take a glimpse of the city. Lights, vivid and flamboyant, marked the carriage with different bodies of color, polishing the train with shades of light. Towering skyscrapers, which seemed to reach the filament, twisted and blended into the background. Fleets of ships, sailing elegantly through the shades of blue, arriving at the harbor in a tight formation. The city was beautiful, but the slight rain made it difficult for Nick to appreciate its architecture.

Faceless people walked past him, an endless stream of current, pouring into the empty seats of the aisle. He knew that day would soon part the horizon. The passengers, who were mostly prey, shot the fox with cold, crude glances while distancing themselves away from him. Parents, fearing for their child, advised against drawing near to the fox.

Two Alpine goats, drunk, draped in business suits, tried to provoke the fox into a scuffle by mumbling odd slurs. Nick, nonchalantly, brushed off the meager glares and remarks that were trying to see through his flesh by giving them a smug grin.

"Gentleman! That tie too tight for ya? Judging by those puffed up faces, that tie's blocking oxygen flow." Nick chuckled at his joke. "Not today, fellas." he hinted.

The gentlemen were not amused. Passengers were alarmed of the tension between the fox and the two goats. The older buck, in his mid-40s, fired back "Hey rascal, shut it or square up. I'll wipe that smug face of yours on the bare floor," Barely able to balance himself, the buck clenched and grinds his teeth, bearing his curved, ivory horns at the direction of the fox. "Yeah dude, we're rich! We can buy you, and your mother, if we wanted to!" His stoned associate joined in, laughing with hysteria as he banged his hoof on the rail walls. They swayed with the motion of the transport, knocking into each other as they desperately tried to hook their arms around the pivoted handles.

Nick was ticked off but managed to control his temper. He eyed them for a while before speaking in a soft tone "look... Why don't you, and 'Betsy the clown' over here spent few more rounds at the pub? There's one near Sahara Square, left from Albuquerque. Closing at ten, so hurry up."

The older buck made a loud grunt, stomping his hind legs onto the hard carpet floors, preparing to charge towards the fox. 

"You ain't going anywhere, fox," the younger buck mumbled, loud enough to be audible. Glued to their seats, the predators gawked helplessly at the fox. Some mammals, cried cheers and chants, worsening the scene. Rubbing salt to wounds, they were cheering for the bucks. The bucks approached Nick sluggishly, staggering towards him. Nick, stressed and seated, eyed them ferociously, but calmed down as he did not want his emotions to get the better of him.

The maglev was no longer safe for Nick. Spiraling through his mind was a mental dilemma: Get beaten up or to get beaten up to a bloody pulp. Sweat glazed off his forehead, running down his neck and staining his white office shirt. He was always a leaky faucet. Drenched with sweat, Nick tried to release steam by loosening his collar and undoing his buttons. He slipped into his mind for a moment,  _"not yet,"_  he thought.

Several minutes before the train reaches the city, Nick had to entertain these clowns before he could make a clean withdrawal. He straightened his blue tie, mopping the creek flowing from his forehead and stood up.

"Well, you don't like me, and I don't like you, but that's okay," he reassures them. "You know what? What we care about is the 'green' we earn, am I right folks?" The bucks, puzzled with the fox's words, stopped dead in their tracks.

"What are ya tal-," Nick interrupts the older buck before he could finish his sentence

"Hush, Hush. You see, I haven't introduced myself yet, and neither have you, so why don't we start off by exchanging pleasantries? Here, I'll give you a mulligan." Nick cleared his throat before continuing. 

_"My name is Hairy Houndini, the Great Houndini."_

Utter Silence. Everyone gawked at Nick speechless.

"Who the fuck is that?" the younger buck challenged Nick, but the older buck was gasping with excitement. His face pouring with sweat as his heart began thumping rapidly.

"Dear goat, I mean... sir," he stuttered, unable to proceed as his face flustered cherry-red, attempting to grab hold of Nick's paws. "I'm a big fan!" His verbal tone took a one-eighty turn.

"Excuse me? Mr. Hornfield?" the younger buck exclaimed at Hornfield. He staggered towards Hornfield and grabbed hold of his collar, lifting him up without breaking a sweat. "Who the fuck is Houndini?" He went on, shaking Hornfield.

Nick had realized how muscular the younger buck was but relieved as the poor sobs were still drunk.

Hornfield slapped the younger buck across the face while being elevated, leaving a red blotch on his cheek. "Shut your trap, Paul." Hornfield was furious at Ramsey, who was unaware of what he had done.

Hornfield turns towards to Nick "Sir, forgive the tyke, he's a worker of mine. The name's Sullivan Hornfield and this idiot, Paul Ramsey." He apologized sincerely. "Can... can I have an autograph, please?"

Ramsey apologized to Hornfield, rubbing his cheeks with his hooves. "Mr. Hornfield, can we please consider the authenticity of this..erm..fox?" he whined, but the old buck was outraged by his accusation. "I never even heard of this...this...Houndini!"

"How dare you, you uncultured swine! Mr. Houndini is a first-rate magician, and he's more prosperous than you'll ever hope to be! The figure, the composure, the seductive voice, the body language. He's genuine!" the older buck hissed at Mr. Ramsey. "Sir, spare the ignorant lot, he's an idiot."

"I'm not sure about this, Mr. Hornfield..." Ramsey persisted, staring into Nick's eyes. "Why don't you prove yourself, Mr. Houndini, I think you're just a professional con-man." Ramsey challenged Nick.

"Alright gentleman. I'll show you a trick that I had mastered when I was twelve. Drop your wallets. But here's the deal..." Nick paused for a moment, firing intense glances towards the travelers and the two bucks. If he managed to pull this off, It would be a grand story. He thought to himself. "...close your eyes for ten seconds and think of something nice. After that, open your eyes and wallets, I guarantee I'll leave you gasping." Some of the passengers giggled after hearing Nick's absurd demands.

"Trying to scam-" Hornfield tackled Ramsey before he could state his point, stomping on his foot ferociously. Mr. Ramsey let out a pathetic shriek while hopping along the aisle. The crowd, seeing how pathetic Ramsey was, roared with laughter.

"Of course, sir! Am I going to feature in ZTV, perchance?" Hornfield exclaimed. "But sir, Honest, we've been drinking a little, will that affect your performance?" Grabbing Ramsey's wallet from his pants, he tossed it to the ground along with his purse.

Nick grinned "No, no. It'll work even better; I can assure you, friends." he picked up their wallets and crammed them into his pockets. "Now, close your eyes...and start counting." Nick watched in delight as the two bucks sealed their eyes and started counting.

There, just in time. The maglev had reached the ZIC.

Nick backtracked and crept towards the exit under the buck's snouts. The two clowns were still counting and being sheep. Before dashing out, Nick announced to the goats.

_"Thank you for riding line 7, please ensure all personal property are at hand before departing the line... losers."_

Nick jolted out of the maglev and crashed, face first towards the cold, concrete floor. Volts of electricity traversed through his body as his adrenaline kicked in, electrocuting the fox and paralyzing him for a second. Nick has forgotten about the shock collar. The shock collar had calculated his state of excitement as being too unstable and punished him. The situation was bad.

"Oh no you don't, not when I'm having the luckiest day of my life," he mumbled.

Tourists that were trying to board the line was skeptical of Nick flopping like a fish out of water, struggling to get up from the floor. Nick carried himself out of the platform, limping and hopping until his legs woke up.

"Thief! Get the fox!" cried the two bucks while shoving tourists and travelers to pursue Nick. The Rams jumped out of the carriage, breaking into a full sprint.

Hornfield, deceived by Nick, was outraged. He was too tired and weak to chase after the fox. His short, obese figure gave in to the fatigue. Sweat dripped off from his thick, greasy face, splashing onto the floor like heavy rain.

"Five minutes to bring me that fox. Then I'll consider giving you a raise." He ordered, signaling Ramsey to initiate the hunt. "I'll make that fucking fox into stew."

"'bout time," Ramsey mumbled, nodding the Hornfield. "Listen up people, we have a lowlife thief running around the terminal, and I need your help, steer clear of my way, and we won't have a problem."

The chase began. Crowds of tourists cleared a clean path for Ramsey. Cheering for the bucks, the onlookers assisted him to pinpoint the locale of the fox.

Nick wedged himself into the masses in hope to shake his pursuers. Squeezing himself in between a couple of elephants and moose, he managed to position himself safely away from Ramsey. "Get in line and wait like the rest of us, fox!" the mammals yelled.

Nick galloped through the gathering darkness towards the ascending platforms of the terminal, which raises into the entrance. Traversing the flights of stairs towards the upcoming exit of light, Nick dodged through luggage and people. On the road beyond, security was patrolling the perimeter. Further down the corridors stood Ramsey, scanning the aisle for the fox.

He yanks his brakes, stopping momentarily to sink into his thoughts. Too many clutter: Security and a pissed off buck. He shrouded himself in the shade behind a marble pillar, nervous glances towards Ramsey. Ramsey was reluctant to move. He knew that the fox would try to exit through the entrance, time and space were on Ramsey's side.

The tension became blood boiling for Nick that he could choke under pressure. He rests to avoid overexerting himself, frowning and beating himself up to think decisively. The sense of anxiety coursing through his head. His tongue thirsted for a drink. The collar could spark anytime he was emotionally unstable thus he had to keep agitation to a minimum. The ZIC was congested with people; it was difficult for him to survey the area without emerging from his cover. Sound pollution was mild, music blasting over loudspeakers, distracting the fox from recollecting his thoughts.

"Focus Nick, just think," he said to himself.

He waits patiently behind the pillars until the buck was gone, or he died of dehydration. Sticking his head out of hiding to scan the area, he noticed that his pursuer was no longer guarding the entrance. He holds himself steadily, hunched forward to check north, he was on all fours. Ramsey was missing.

This was the opportunity for Nick to escape. He prayed that security hadn't discovered his little scam, and crept towards the entrance slowly.

Nick bumped into a robust figure, a figure more brawny than he could picture. "Hey pal, look where you're goi-" His voice drowned as looked up to eye the individual.

"Hey there 'Nick,' been looking for ya. Where have ya been, buddy?" Standing before the fox, was Ramsey. He had relocated himself behind Nick as he saw a silhouette behind the pillars. Ramsey placed his arms around him, dragging him out of the ZIC. The mammals observed as the fox was being towed away by the buck. A sense of uncertainty of what happens next.

"Hey now buddy, here's your wallet back." Nick desperately pulls Ramsey's purse out. "Maybe we can split the other buck's money in half, eighty-twenty percent, eh? You, eighty, me twenty, how's that sound to you?"

Ramsey disregarded Nick's offer, hauling him out of the building and onto the city streets. Security eyed them skeptically, before pulling back into the station. Nick tried to squeal for help, but the voice projected was but a dull croak. He was no longer brazen nor cocky. He was genuinely terrified.

"Sir, Why don't you have my wallet," Nick persisted, handing the buck his wallet. "Let's just leave it at that and call it a day, huh?" Ramsey laughed frantically and brushed him off. The presence of moonlight didn't hinder his vision. He let himself to be carried along, barely holding his reins until he found an opportunity to run.

Cold sweat plopped off from Nick's forehead as he walked along the alleyway, fur tingling as eerie shrieks bounced off walls.

Ramsey halted, walked a little and ended his tracks; he faced a dead end. Beyond the road was a couple of silhouettes and traces of smog. "Why have we stopped...?" Nick, trying to make sense of what was happening.

Ramsey performed a choke hold on the fox, dragging him towards the silhouettes. "Boss, a rogue fox, alive and well!" Ramsey boasted. Drums of applause filled the alleyways. He tossed Nick's purse towards someone in the background.

"Well done, Paul!" stepping out of the mist was Hornfield. Laughing with his co-workers, he approached Nick slowly, mumbling slurs along the way.

"Gentleman! This shifty, lowlife scum lied to me and tried to steal from me. Despicable! What do we do to people who disrespect me?" Hornfield raised his voice.

"Drown 'em in the gutters!" cried his crew. Nick flew Nervous glances towards Hornfield, his paws soaked with sweat, legs trembling.

"What...?" Nick shrieked.

A phone notification sounded off in the background. One of Hornfield's men went ballistic, running to him and whispering into his ears, too muffled for Nick to make out. Hornfield paused for a moment, His face turned into a grin, then continued.

"Drown him in the gutters.... That's what we usually do..." He stared at Nick's facial, then looks away. "But since I'm in a good mood now.." Hornfield glares directly into his eyes.

"I'm going to beat the crap out of ya."

Ending the sentence immediately, Hornfield and his crew took turns to beat Nick to a bloody pulp, knocking him out cold. Nick was no longer standing upright after tanking sharp blows to the face and abdomen. Ramsey gripped the fox tightly to prevent him from struggling while the others took their time to torture the fox, turning him into a sentient punching bag. It didn't take long before he broke and howls started to pierce the silent night; resulting in painful jabs from the shock collar. "What a fucking baby! this ought to shut you up!" Hornfield cursed, shoving Nick's wallet up his mouth to gag him, before continuing his torture.

The fox, now lying motionless on the hard ground, spat and coughed red while being tackled and kicked off the street. As his mind sank into the abyss, an elk wearing a black top came up to him. He unzipped his pants and discharged a leak on his face; soaking his fur wet and even drenching his mouth with yellow.

_"Empty wallet, but thanks for the lottery ticket, loser!"_


	2. Tainted Memories

The stench of ammonia pierced through Nick's olfactory cavity, resurrecting his motionless body. Recollecting the fractal of reminiscents that he had participated, he jolted up, dropped back down, and hunched his limbs. Clutching his knees in pain, he tried to sprawl, gently lifting his paralyzed legs off the concrete floor and placing them back down. The alleyway was freezing; hanging lamps shot off refracted light across the puddles of water, bouncing off walls, gleaming rays of cyan. Droplets of dew dripped off from the pipes that shot fifty acres across the ledges; landing onto Nick's snout. He blew his nose, blood and mucus went out of his muzzle.

He inspected his body thoroughly, scanning for shattered bones and fractures. Bruises, cuts and burnt skin ran through his body, but no rupture. The wind blew cold, humid air towards his wounds, causing acute pain and mild swelling. He ran his paws over his fur, crossing his arms, only to discover his clothing was gone. Sprawling on the floor, he shot sideways glances across the passage while cupping and applying pressure on the cuts. A floating piece of fabric caught his attention.

Attaching to the tip of a pole was Nick's garb, his tie and belt were strung as a rope. He gawked as his clothes soared across the skies elegantly before remembering that he had to retrieve it. He carefully carries himself towards the post, flopping step by step, passing by pastry shops and apartments. His head was thumping; swollen legs made it difficult to advance. The path of stone was keen as daggers, slicing his feet and hammering his ankles, he groaned restlessly.

"Look at that fox, Marry! He's been drunk as a skunk!" A baker barked, leaning out of his shop to take a closer glance at Nick. "There must be some rat hole joint filled with foxes 'round here!" Standing beside him was a younger sow, light pink and dressed in a black robe.

"Daddy, why is the fox naked?" The sow asked his father. Nick's face flustered paints of red; his cheeks burned brimstone. "Poor fox must be lost!"

Nick swiveled his head away, strolling past the bakery and towards the locale of his clothes. Stepping onto the blades of grass, he wrapped his arms around the pole. The fox sank his claws into the metal post, using them as ice picks to haul himself up. Grappling the pillar and throwing his paws in constant motion. Eventually, he managed to scale up the pole with his limbs. Dangling on the twenty-foot pole, he swiped his left hand towards the cloth and managed to hook them off.

Nick felt a prickling sensation on the tip of his claws. Before he could react, one of his nails had snapped, breaking into fragments. Nick cried out in pain, losing his balance and pummeled into the blades of grass on his back. The pitch of green stung the fox's rear, impaling and grazing his skin. Nick, lost his conscious for a moment, before rolling away from the blot of green. He flashed his eyes at the patch covered in paints of blood. A frenzied look in his eyes as he started to shiver.

Shattered glass of olive, blending with the sea of green, was strewn across the floor.

Nick's mind collapsed, fading into a motionless abyss. His tongue, arid and dried up, has yet to receive a drop of water from his trip. He tried to meditate his soul, but the acute pain disrupted that thought, spearing flesh as deep into his bones. His face, cold to touch. He clenched his teeth, fixating his vision on the ocean of grass, wavering along the brisk air. His field of sight blurred out, wandering his sentience into the void of dept.

He thought about his family.

The name 'Nicholas' bounced off his head; the family name, Wilde. Although dwelling under the roof of a religious household, he held his belief of reason; he embraced science and mathematics. His family, although tried to steer him towards tradition, loved him dearly; especially the father.

The father, he recalled, was a refined gentleman. Stoic, passionate towards arts. When he was in his study, he would so often place the child onto his lap, resting his chin on the little fox's head while reading a classical epic. Young Nick would doze off soundly in his arms, sometimes grabbing and pinching the father's cheeks while he was reading a lecture. To his wife, he played and fondled the little fox as if he was a child himself. The father holds the child up, letting their nose touch, feeling the gusts of air running through. He rarely failed to entertain the tyke by smothering him with smooches.

"You're the most beautiful child we ever had," the father whispered, snuggling the child as he caresses his fur, playing with his ears before turning to the mother. "Don't you agree, dear? come here and kiss your child!"

The mother agreed, stepping towards the child to pat him on the head, kissing him gently on the cheeks while running her paw across his face. "If we were to disappear suddenly, what would you tell us before we leave?" she asked the child, both of them listening attentively to the answer of the cub.

"I'll have you know that I still love you very much."

"I'm sorry mom... dad." Nick blurted out. Tears gushed out of his eyes, running across his cheeks and dripping down his face. Blinding rays of light shined onto his facials, blinding his sight. He blinked, blinked again. His body laying on a soft, lukewarm material.

"Is this the heaven my dad told me so much about?" he enquired, his voice cracked, trying to adjust his eyes towards the lighting. "It looks and feels nothing like it."

"No, but that's what we usually hear from patients," a voice struck Nick's ears.

Nick, puzzled, turned his head towards the voice. Seated beside him was a Raccoon, draped in a doctor's coat, around three feet in height. "Welcome to the Zootopian General Hospital, not quite the heaven you expected, eh? My name is Doctor Owen Lowell, you can call me doctor."

Doctor Lowell offered Nick a handshake. "Now what was your name again?" He eyed the fox carefully, monitoring every little movement he makes. In his hands, a remote.

"Nicholas, Nicholas Wilde," Nick said, accepting Lowell's gesture. He went on, "Who brought me here? How long have I been here" His body ached, crunching towards the sheet of blankets that hid his legs. Rolls of bandages wrapped compactly around his body, acting as a medium to absorb discharge.

"Don't exert yourself, Mr. Wilde. You've been lying here for two days. Remember?" The doctor's words shot through Nick's mind. Nick sank into the darkness, water was being poured into his mouth. He doesn't seem to remember. Lowell paced himself along the bed frames, flicking report papers and documents about Nick's injuries.

"A very kind family brought you here," He pauses for a moment. "Mr. Wilde, you're not supposed to be here."

"What do you mean, doc, aside I have no money? Is my physique burning down the hospital?" Nick jested, but the doctor could not look him in the eye. Lowell paced along the bed again, grasping the remote firmly. The noise of squabble could be heard outside the room. "I mean, this hospital is called 'general' for a reason right?" he continued, glancing the interiors of the room. The area was decorated luxuriously, dashed with roses and daisies. A long wooden table barred against the window frames, obstructing his view from the outside world. Laying on top of the table were a few poker cards, his wallet, clothing wrapped in plastic, and a key.

"This hospital was built by prey, for prey. The people who brought you in are very kind, begging the staff to medicate your wounds."

He paused again, looking into Nick's eye. "I was the only one who volunteered to treat you, the other doctors wanted you out" he felt guilty, holding onto the remote, "They wired your shock collar onto this remote," he flaunts the remote before Nick's face.

The conversation was left with silence after the term 'shock collar' was mentioned. Nick was disgusted by the idea of such remote, he could not fathom why prey would hold animosity towards him; towards his ancestors' millennials of years ago.

"What are you going to do with that remote? Do you really think I'll go nuts? That I'll try to eat you?" Giving Lowell the death glare, he raises his voice, activating the shock collar. Nick tasted the shocks, but the volts felt much harsher than what he remembered, jerking his tears out. He stared down the doctor, his eyes burned with hatred. The quarreling in the background became louder, partially audible to Nick.

_**"There's a predator in this hospital!? I spent good money to get into this hospital to not look at the dumb faces of those cannibals!"** _

"Please, Mr. Wilde, Anger stimulates the collar, I urge you to keep your emotions to yourself." Lowell sighted, heading towards the door, scowling as he looked directly into Nick's red-watery eyes. "I'm sorry, but you have to leave now."

Nick hoisted his upper body, leaving the sheets of blankets as he jumped off the bed. His arms were patched up with rolls of white while a green hospital gown covered his chest. He reached for the curtains that were screening the windows and gave them a slight tug; small enough to flash a glimpse outwards from the building. Blinding rays of light gleamed through the hole in the curtain, igniting his fur and obstructing his vision. He blocked the sunlight with his paw, letting his eyes adjust to the brightness. His reflection stared back into his eyes; he looked terrible. Nick's body had become a shadow of his former self, his ears twisted, arms bruised and stiff.

Nick stripped down the gown and poured his cream office shirt onto his body. He rammed his wallet into his pocket; the purse, thin and hollow. Doctor Lowell had left, leaving Nick in disarray as he paced himself; figuring on where he should be headed. Silver Light shot across the sterile floorings, bouncing off the walls and shimmered onto the wooden door, forming shadows under the lighted gap. By the wall, hung the portrait of Zootopia's 52nd president: Mayor Picton. The giant frame stared directly into Nick's green, opulent eyes, drilling into his consciousness as they eyed each other. The mayor was a predator; a lion! To permit such a thing to happen to other predators; to his own kin! He should be tried! The picture depicted the Mayor Picton in a relaxed posture, his left arm rested against a cane; right paw behind his back, slightly arched as he looked into the camera. The lighting in the room had made the mayor more formidable than he appeared to be, shrouding his tame collar into the background.

"You'll be begging on your knees if you want my vote," Nick mumbled as he scratched the portrait with his claws, defacing the picture. The perception of pain from his torn nails flowed back to him. He cupped his paws, limiting blood flow in hope to stop the acute sensation. He ran his mind about the vice mayor, a pig that he used to joke to his friends. She's been much silent about politics lately; rarely seen in rallies nor speeches.

"I have to call Finnick and Clawhauser. Those two bozos will know what to do," Nick dismisses the thought about Mayor Picton and his accomplice, focusing matters onto his dire state. "There's gotta be a cell here somewhere." He flipped through cabinets and drawers until a glint beside the bed caught his eye. Resting on the end table was a pale, cream telephone.

"What a joke! I can't contact anyone with that hunk of junk." Nick was frustrated as the telephone could only work in the vicinity of the hospital. The name Lowell sprung into his mind; he thought for a second before placing himself on the bed. "Lowell might have a phone," he guessed, watching the door as the sound of footsteps drew near. "No, he definitely has one."

The doorknob twisted and turned, creaking sounds were drawn while the door flung open. Doctor Lowell had returned and in his paws, held paper and documents. "Mr. Wilde, do you have any relatives to contact?"

"Finally doc', and that I do." Nick bubbled out in joy, trying to contain his happiness he asked Lowell for a phone. He seemed to have forgotten about the chat they had earlier about the shock collars.

Doctor Lowell plopped the papers onto the wooden table, reaching for his pockets, he grabbed out an iPhone of silver and ivory. He eyed him cautiously before handing him his phone. "Mr. Wilde, I hope I will not live to rue it," Lowell vacillated. Nick grabbed the phone from him and started dialing numbers. Lowell watched behind him in darkness as he danced his fingers on the keypad, glimpsing on who he was dialing. He placed his right paw in the pocket of his coat, refusing to let go of the object he was grasping.

"Do you mind, pal?" Nick yapped, shoving Lowell aside. "Sneaking around like a rat. That's not nice, doc'." he sung as he wagged his paws at Lowell.

"Of course, Mr. Wilde... old habits die hard..." Mr. Lowell backed off, feeling ashamed as he walked across the room. A running tap leaked off on his forehead, pouring sweat across his face and body, staining his white coat. "Mr. Wilde, I urge you to be careful. The ward is filled with unhappy mammals," he emphasized, turning his head back for the last time before closing the door. Loud noises outside the room were audible to Nick.

Nick sat soundly on the bed, waiting eagerly for Finnick to pick up the phone. Nothing happened. The phone rang for two minutes and fifteen seconds, yet Finnick was nowhere to be seen.

"Pick up the phone, Finnick!" Nick cursed as he tried Finnick's number again. He tried again.

"For the last time, I'm not interested in your wool rugs! Stop calling my number, or I'll bash that empty skull of yours you call a brain to mush!" Finnick lashed out, raising his voice in outrage. The sound of his shock collar going off could be heard.

"Hey, It's me, big guy," Nick huffed, "I need you to come pick me up at the ZGH, downtown. You can't miss it."

"Aww, what happened Nick, did you get your ass beat again? Oh, you poor fox haha!" Finnick laughs frantically as he baby talks Nick, resulting in another striking jab from the shock collar.

"Just grab the van and wait outside, and bring Clawhauser too."

Nick carried himself swiftly and dashed out of the front door, only to be greeted by masses of chants from the other patients.

_"It's the cannibal!"_ cried the patients, launching anything within their reach, seldom failing to besmear the fox with food pastes and liquid, smudging applesauce and juices onto his tattered clothing. There were no greetings nor welcomes, hate rants pierced through the hollow wards, further crushing Nick's perception of the prey mammals. _"Get out of here fox! You don't deserve any of this!"_ A female musk deer hissed, tossing a water bottle at the direction of the fox. A blow of keen sense had awoken Nick, allowing him to seize the bottled water mid-air. Nick shielded himself from the other patients and sprung out of the bay towards the elevators with the bottled water. Doctor Lowell waited for him by the elevators.

"Everything okay?"

_"The predator's a grey wolf!"_ screamed one of the mammals, some of them squealed in fear. _"A wolf!?"_ Some of the patients were trying to arouse fear in the midst of the ward. _"There's a wolf among us!"_

"Yes, fine. I need to scram before the mob turns me into a fur coat."

He looks at his watch. "It's time for your discharge then." The chantings grew louder as the unhappy patients drew near. "After you, Mr. Wilde."

They entered the elevator and stood silently. Lowell was in charge of pressing buttons as he knew his way around the hospital. Lowell held his hands in his pockets, monitoring the movement of the fox. Thrusting subtle sideway glances onto Nick's shock collar, he finally spoke. "You've been very co-operative for a fox, Mr. Wilde." The elevator was quickly engulfed with silence yet again. It was deadly quiet.

"What do you mean, doc'? That's sudden." Nick grabbed Lowell's right paw and slid his phone down. He gave Lowell a strange look before facing the stiff, steel grid of the elevator. Lowell's eyes rolled towards the fox. Striking chills spread down Nick's spine as he tried to control his breathing. There's no way this raccoon will cross me, will he? Nick thought. He shakes his head, banishing that thought. As the elevator descended, Nick's heart thumped with high weight, trying to wrap his head around Lowell's wording. Lowell noticed the fox's suspicion, he revolved his head, placing his paws on Nick's shoulder as he reassured him.

"The papers are at the reception, you'll have to sign them thoroughly," flashing Nick a faint smile as he threw his hands behind his back. Nick was barely listening to him anymore, Lowell's face was unreadable. Every floor passed was a bullet dodged, what was waiting for him at the reception? It was apparent Lowell had something else in mind for me. He wandered his mind through every possibility and still could not anticipate what Lowell had in store for him. The elevator became bitter, cold gusts of air flowed across the silent space. The steel beams frozen and rigid, reflecting the images of the fox and the raccoon. A metallic smell hung over everything.

"Now," he says. "Follow me, I'm taking you to the reception."

Lowell led him down a narrow passage, his footsteps swift and eager, then turned sharply at a corner, heading towards the reception, passing by libraries and commons. Nick's escort led him to a seat and politely informed him to wait as he gets the papers. Shades of lamps hung above his head to the west, glowing and sparkling. Nick took a sip out of the bottled water, then rammed it inside a cup holder. The interior was surprisingly spacious and empty, icy and airy.

The doors swang open behind Nick, loud flush sounds struck his ears. Footsteps rang and thumped, growing more empathetic and hefty at every step. Lowell had disappeared into the door behind the counter. He might never be coming back. The sound of footsteps halted dead in its tracks. Nick felt gusts of wind blowing directly at the back of his neck. Hard, scrabbling sounds of clothes being whisked caught his ear. He took a brief look backward and looked back.

_Bluecoats._

"Excuse me, sir, Why are you sitting in a strictly-no predator zone?" A honeyed voice projected from behind. A three-foot tall rabbit, draped in a meter maid outfit, planted herself behind him, her right paw reached for something, but he couldn't make out what it is.

"What is it, sweetheart? Aren't you supposed to be watching traffic? I think someone across the road is trying to steal a traffic cone, better go stop 'em," Nick sang, pointing across the street. He threw his paws onto his lap as he stood up, leaving the scene. The officer shot a brief look at the direction he pointed and looked back, realizing Nick had rushed for the door.

"Hey!" she shouted, catching up with Nick as she tried to block him from exiting. "You're not supposed to be in here! Do you have any idea that I could charge you with trespassing?"

"Hop along, fluff. I had a pretty rough day, and I deserve a day off," Nick answered meagerly, dismissing the officer's words as he shrugged her off, waiting for his ride. He paid no regards to the rabbit that was trying to get his attention.

 


End file.
